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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23870971">Made My Other Loves Irrelevant</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuickSilverFox3/pseuds/QuickSilverFox3'>QuickSilverFox3</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnificent Seven (2016)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, M/M, Mutual Pining, Scars, Secret Relationship, Sharing a Bed, They're Partners (and Partners)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 00:20:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>937</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23870971</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuickSilverFox3/pseuds/QuickSilverFox3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Being on call is something no-one wants, but it's part of the job and Goodnight has Sam at his side throughout.<br/>-<br/>He calmed in waves: the ringing in his ears receding to the slow hum of cars passing on the distant road — so different to the lonely silence of Goodnight’s flat, unused for months now; the sharp stab of panic receding with the soft rise and fall of Sam’s chest, illuminated in the weak grey morning light. </p><p>Goodnight studied Sam as he scrambled blindly for the duty phone, luxuriating in the potential last few minutes of peace. </p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sam Chisolm/Goodnight Robicheaux</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Made My Other Loves Irrelevant</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>13 (Detective au) and 96 (scars)<br/>Sam Chisolm x Goodnight Robicheaux<br/>[Request from tumblr!]</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Goodnight was awake between one heartbeat and the next, silence ringing so loudly in his ears it almost masked the dying screams that haunted him. Breath catching in his throat, he stared wildly around the room, finally relaxing when he caught sight of two things: the vibrant green numbers of the alarm clock proclaiming it to be 03:27; and the sleeping form of Sam Chisholm, sheets draped around his waist and one hand resting on Goodnight’s thigh.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He calmed in waves: the ringing in his ears receding to the slow hum of cars passing on the distant road — so different to the lonely silence of Goodnight’s flat, unused for months now; the sharp stab of panic receding with the soft rise and fall of Sam’s chest, illuminated in the weak grey morning light. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Goodnight studied Sam as he scrambled blindly for the duty phone, luxuriating in the potential last few minutes of peace. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam was a study in angles, the broad planes of his back bisected with raised dark scars. They told a tale, one Goodnight was intimately familiar with, had traced their curves with his lips and teeth on the nights when Sam was sweat soaked and gasping for something— anything to take away the phantom pressure of a rope around his neck.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The phone screen was mercifully, blessedly blank. Goodnight felt his shoulders slump, tension sloughing off him like a snake shedding its skin. His jaw ached and he swiped a hand across it, feeling the stubble scratch at his skin. He could curl back into Sam’s waiting embrace and let sleep take him for another half an hour… But it would feel like half a heartbeat between closing his eyes and the harsh blaring of the alarm — a necessity with the strange hours they both worked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Goodnight squeezed his eyes shut, tight enough that dancing purple patterns floated across his gaze, and resigned himself to some lost sleep. It would be made up for by copious application of coffee, he was sure. And yet he still hesitated, leaning down to kiss the largest of Sam’s scars: a large knot at the top of his spine, almost concealing the slight jut of bone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The floor was icy against his bare feet, goosebumps erupting over every exposed inch of skin as he shambled. into the kitchen, setting the coffeemaker away through sheer force of habit, eyes still mostly shut.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Goodnight prayed to a God he wasn’t sure he believed in for a quick shift, knowing that it wouldn’t happen the second the phone began to buzz in his hand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shit,” Goodnight sighed, straightening up as he answered the phone “Detective Robicheaux here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>⁂</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No-one at the precinct knew about their relationship — a necessary but unfortunate evil, although they were subject to a fair amount of teasing, both bachelors and both ‘single’ — but in that moment Goodnight could have kissed Sam in front of everyone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sam I would marry you in a heartbeat,” he declared loudly, giving it just enough of a lighthearted air that their colleagues chuckled and shook their heads, well used to their antics. Goodnight hugged the coffee close to his chest — heat almost burning his hands, the scent of rich coffee combined with a faint nuttiness was intoxicating — and caught Sam’s eye. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Unnoticed by everyone else — lost in their case files and the slow drudergy of an afternoon trapped in the office by the slate grey clouds huddled outside — Sam dropped into the seat next to Goodnight and pushed himself impossibly closer. Casually he reached out with his right hand and tugged a file closer — balancing it on the edge of the table with a practiced ease — and taking hold of Goodnight’s left hand with his own in the same motion, smooth and practiced.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It should have upset Goodnight with how much that simple touch grounded him, but it didn’t. He had learned those misplaced feelings of rage and shame, and he could unlearn them as well. He embraced all facets of how Sam made him feel: they had weathered much worse storms that age-old learned guilt. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Goodnight’s chair creaked as he shifted, head angled so the edge of his temple gently bumped against Sam’s under the pretence of studying the file. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He could remember sitting just like this so many years ago. Their feet had swung in the cavernous drop on the other side of the brick wall, but their grip had been just as tight, the angle just as strange. Goodnight could feel the raised silver scar that looped around Sam’s ring finger nudge against the matching scar on his own. One man about to go to war for a fight he didn’t believe in; and one man fighting to change a broken system from the inside, and the wedding rings of their own creation to bind them together forever.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Does that look familiar to you?” Sam asked, jerking Goodnight out of his memories with a start. Goodnight took a long swig of his coffee — sugar and syrup thick enough to stand a spoon up in it — and looked where Sam pointed, a thrill building up in his chest.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m driving otherwise we’ll never get there,” Goodnight told him, squeezing his partner’s hand tighter, not wanting to let go of this small moment of peace, but knowing it couldn’t last.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That was one time Goody.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know. And I will never let you forget it, as long as we both shall live.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was a vow, the closest Goodnight would ever get for now. Sam laughed, warm and deep, the sound of home to Goodnight. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Amen to that. Let’s go.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p><a href="https://inkformyblood.tumblr.com"> My Tumblr!</a> Requests are always welcome!<br/><a href="https://inkformyblood.tumblr.com/post/615200731645050880/fanfiction-trope-mash-up">Trope mash up list!</a><a></a><br/></p></blockquote></div></div>
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